Rays of Hope
by chrmisha
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione cope with the traumas of post-war existence in different ways. After all they've been through, can they still remain friends? Warning for character death (not the threesome). I do not own Harry Potter or make any money from these stories.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, his heart racing, his own futile scream still ringing in his ears. His sheets were a tangled mess, holding him hostage in their folds. As he struggled to free himself, he fell out of bed, smacking his head on the nightstand. Cursing and rubbing the point that hurt, he got to his knees. Images assailed him from every direction. His stomach clenched and he wrapped his arms protectively around himself, trying to block them out: Ginny, always Ginny. Ginny laughing, her head tilted back, her coppery hair fluttering in the wind. Ginny, her brown eyes looking at him with love and determination. Ginny, kissing him, like he'd never been kissed before.

 _The springs of the twin bed next to his creaked loudly._

Ginny, waving good-bye as Harry took a step back to Disapparate. Ginny, her eyes flicking away from his and her smile faltering in those last seconds as he'd spun away from her into darkness; oblivious, unknowing.

 _A soft voice echoed in the distance: "Harry?"_

He squeezed his eyes shut and fought the all-consuming despair. Yet the images played mercilessly in his mind. Ginny, fear marring her perfect features. Ginny calling his name, perhaps even screaming it...

" _Harry," the voice came again, "are you okay?"_

A field of gold swam before him, hazy and hot, shafts of wheat swaying lazily in the August breeze. He pulled his limbs in even tighter, almost coiling into a ball. That's where he had found her. Ginny, his Ginny; naked, mutilated, tortured. Dead. His gut clenched and his body convulsed. "Noooooooo," he wailed.

" _Harry, please..." the voice begged. Knees cracked as someone squatted on the floor in front of him. A warm hand came to rest on his shoulder._

His sobs broke like a dam finally collapsing under the weight of relentless waves of grief. "It's all my fault," he cried, "all my fault..."

" _No, it's not. It's not..." the voice pleaded. He felt another hand, on the back of his head. It was drawing him near. Offering comfort, refuge._

Like a drowning man, he wrapped his arms blindly around her, holding onto her as if she could save him from the despair that threatened to engulf him. He saw Ginny reaching for him across the abyss, an abyss neither could cross.

He felt her touch as she ran her fingers through his hair and held him close. Her voice was soft and soothing, but the litany of words were lost to him. Ginny? Or Hermione? He held onto her, not knowing, not caring, just needing to be held. To be loved.

He felt her grip on him tighten and vaguely registered the sounds of bed springs across the hall creaking ominously, rhythmically.

"Hermione," he whispered, pulling back to look at her.

The creaking from across the hall grew louder, punctuated by grunts and moans. For a moment they both stared at each other, pain etched across every feature of their faces. They had lost so much, yet through it all one thing had remained constant and true: their friendship.

"I'm here," she said in a small voice. She cringed as the noises from across the hall reached a crescendo. Then, finally, there was silence.

Harry looked at her, really looked at her. Her brown hair was matted down with sleep and stuck in places to her wet cheeks. Her face was blotchy and her nose was red. Her lips quivered. She looked as miserable as he felt. And yet her eyes, still swimming with tears, shown with concern for him, the boy who lived, the boy who wished more often than not lately that he hadn't.

As she reached up to wipe his tears away, he placed his hands over hers, holding them against his clammy cheeks. It was not a conscious gesture. Nor was the next, when he closed his eyes and leaned into her. Hermione. Here. Now.

His lips touched hers, slowly, gently. She gasped, clearly surprised. But then, her lips moved against his, a world of wonder growing between them. His hands slid down her arms, coming to rest on her shoulders, as did hers on his. The kiss was fragile and tentative; a phoenix birthed from the ashes.

"What in the blimey hell?!"

Hermione and Harry sprang apart as the door to the room crashed against the wall, echoing Ron's rage.

Harry jumped to his feet, his own anger barely leashed. "Don't even start, Ron," he warned.

"Don't start?" Ron challenged, taking two menacing steps into the room.

Hermione turned her back on the both of them with a sound like an injured rabbit.

"I turn my back for two seconds and you go after my girl?" Ron snarled. The scent of sweat and alcohol filled the small room.

Harry stepped protectively in front of Hermione as he reached for his wand, pointing it directly at his former best friend.

"Your girl," Harry whispered, his anger rising even higher. "Your girl?" he said again, louder.

"Yes, in case you haven't noticed, Hermione is mine."

Harry's laugh was cold. "Oh really? And I thought that blond bimbo you walked in here with was yours. Or was it a brunette tonight?" Harry asked. "I've lost track of them all."

Harry felt Hermione flinch behind him as Ron took a step towards them both.

"You double-crossing bastard," Ron seethed, raising his fists since he didn't have his wand on him.

"Stop!" Hermione shrieked in a shrill voice. "I'm not anyone's property!" She looked over Ron's disheveled appearance, his bloodshot eyes, his swaying stance. A mixture of revulsion and pity crossed her face. "Ron, you better leave."

"Leave!" he shouted, "This is MY room!"

"Was your room," Harry clarified, his wand still trained on Ron, "before you started shacking up with anyone who would have you, and in Hermione's bed no less!" A whimper sounded from behind him. "You'd better go back there before you pass out on the floor again."

Ron's ears were bright red as he puffed up his chest to fight. Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Ron's chest. Ron's resolve to fight wavered for a moment. Then, calling them both every awful name he could think of, Ron turned and staggered out of the room, bouncing off the doorframe as he left.

Harry slashed at the door with his wand, and with a bang it slammed shut and locked. "Muffliato," he murmured for good measure. Then he took Hermione by the shoulders and guided her to the twin bed next to his own, where he sat beside her. Tears streaked her face. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. She laid her head on his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he laid his head atop hers. They sat their together, silent and unmoving but for their measured breathing, until the first vestiges of sunlight graced their grimy window, spreading tiny rainbows of hope around the room.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Harry was in the kitchen preparing coffee when Hermione walked in.

"Thanks," she murmured as she took the cup Harry offered, cradling it between her hands for warmth.

"Listen, about last night..." Harry stammered.

"Don't apologize, Harry," Hermione said, "I've been thinking about it, too, and..."

Just then, Ron entered the room. Both of them froze, watching him apprehensively.

"What?" he said. They both looked away quickly. "Blimey, what is it with you two? You act as if I'm a walking time bomb."

Neither of them spoke. Living with Ron these last months had been tantamount to torture. Only the loyalty of their past friendship, and the loss of his sister, kept them from kicking him out on his arse. Yet as each day passed, and Ron's drunken rages and erratic behavior grew more dangerous, Harry felt the grasp of loyalty and friendship slipping. He could not stand to see Hermione crying herself to sleep every night, and he, too, was sick of being treated like dragon dung. After last night, he had vowed to make a change. Hermione had kissed him back. Even if nothing more ever happened between them, it told Harry that she was ready to move on with her life. Without Ron.

"How's auror training going?" Ron asked around a mouthful of eggs on toast.

Harry took in Ron's bloodshot eyes and his unkempt appearance. Inwardly, he sighed. "There's still a spot for you, Ron."

"Nah," Ron spat, "you keep at it though. It suits you."

"What are you going to do, Ron?" Hermione asked. "You can't stay here living like this forever..."

"Why not?" he asked.

Hermione and Harry glanced at each other.

"Unless you're asking me to leave, I'm perfectly happy with how things are. I mean, the three of us are still together, and what's more important than friendship, eh?" Ron jammed more food into his mouth as he stretched and scratched his protruding belly. He'd put on weight since Ginny had died.

"Ron..." Hermione began.

"You worry too much," Ron said, waving her off.

"No, she doesn't," interjected Harry.

At the tone of Harry's voice, Ron stopped.

"Hermione and I," Harry swallowed, "think it's time we move out."

Harry felt as stunned as Ron looked. He didn't dare look at Hermione. He hadn't meant to say the words aloud, but now that he had, he knew they were true.

"Move out?" Ron said, almost comically. "What, do you mean you want to get a new flat? Maybe move closer to the Ministry, so you two can be closer to your jobs? I think that's a great idea. Let me know when you find a place and I'll pack my stuff."

As he turned to leave, Harry stood and braced himself. "Alone, Ron. Without you. I think it's time we went our separate ways."

Ron chortled. "Nice one, Harry. For a moment there I thought you were serious."

"I am serious."

Ron glanced from Harry to Hermione. Hermione had her head in her hands.

"What the hell is this?" Ron demanded. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Harry was about to speak when Hermione cleared her throat. She, too, squared her shoulders. "I think Harry's right. It's time we went our separate ways."

"Why? Why the blimey hell do you want to leave? Or, more specifically, do you want me to leave?"

"Ron, it's not you, it's just..." Hermione tried.

"Your lifestyle is becoming difficult to accommodate," Harry finished.

Ron looked astonished. "My what?"

"Your drinking," Hermione interjected.

"Bringing home a different woman every night," Harry added.

"Your outbursts," Hermione said in a small voice.

"My what?" Ron spluttered.

Hermione looked away, tears welling in her eyes. Visibly swallowing, Hermione took out her wand and waved it in front of her face. Brown and purple bruises blossomed across her left cheek and eye.

Harry felt as if someone had poured cold ice over him. Rage welled in the pit of his stomach. Hermione had kept this from him.

"What the hell happened to you?" Ron asked, indignant and confused.

But Harry was already stepping towards him.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm, barely able to hold him back. "Harry, please…" Hermione cleared her throat again and whispered into the tense silence. "You, Ron, you did this to me."

"What the hell? Is this some sort of sick game you're playing, Hermione? Because it isn't funny." Ron's ears had turned red and his hands had balled into fists.

Still holding onto to Harry, Hermione said, "I can't live like this anymore, Ron. I've been covering for you long enough."

"Damn right you can't live like this," Harry snapped, breaking free of Hermione's grip. "You should have told me, Hermione." Harry stalked to where Ron stood. "Get out now," Harry said, barely able to control himself, "before I do something we both regret."

"Is this how you treat your friends? Blame them for the scrapes you get into? I didn't touch her," he spat in Hermione's direction. "You're going to believe her over me? After all I've been through?"

"Ron..." Hermione warned.

"No, I don't have to take this. I lost my sister. It's your fault I lost Ginny," he said, shoving a beefy finger into Harry's chest. "If it wasn't for you, Potter, Ginny'd still be alive."

"Don't," Harry said. He was one second away from snapping.

"Don't what?" Ron shouted. "Tell the truth? You're the one who should leave! Take your things and get the hell out of our lives. Hermione and I don't need you, do we Hermione?"

Hermione said nothing. She stared at the ground, and Harry knew she was fighting back tears.

Ron pushed past Harry and grabbed Hermione by the shoulders. "Answer me," he demanded, shaking her violently.

Harry's reaction was instinctive. He grabbed Ron and threw him against the wall, his fist raised and ready to punch. But Ron's head had hit the doorframe and he slid slowly to the floor, already unconscious.

"Oh Harry, you shouldn't have," Hermione said. "He... he doesn't know what he's doing."

Harry's heart was beating hard and fast. "That may be, Hermione, but that's his problem, not ours. And us staying here is not going to help him get better. We've tried, Hermione. We've done everything we can. We aren't helping him." Very lightly, he ran his fingers across the bruises on her cheek, "And he's hurting us."

"I know," she said. She blinked back her tears before looking sadly down at Ron who lay sprawled on the floor. "I'll go pack my things."

Harry watched as Hermione left the room, pity and regret flitting across her face. "I'm sorry, Ron," she whispered.

Within fifteen minutes, Harry and Hermione had left, leaving Ron a note and some money.


End file.
